Suicide, Maybe? 1/15
I walk out of my science class; the test paper balled up in my hand along with the professor's words etched in my mind. ‘Test average was 85. Anybody that made lower shouldn’t come back!’
I made a 75. I actually studied hard for this damn test! Even made flashcards with pictures!
Why am I here? What purpose am I fulfilling by being at this school and taking these classes?
Sure I have a job, but apparently I can’t accomplish as much as I want without a better degree. ‘Maybe I really should just finish it,’ I think to myself in contemplation as I look down at the various scars littered up and down my arm, the really bad ones I keep hidden underneath wrist wraps and bracelets. I know I have almost identical scars on both arms, what I do to one always gets done to the other.
I shove the balled test paper into my messenger bag that is slung around my chest, I’m sure it’s going to find its home somewhere in one of the deepest corners.
My cigarettes are snug in a front pocket of the bag, where they always are. Pulling out a cigarette from the packet and grabbing my favorite lighter from my back pocket. I’ve been told a few of my jeans actually have indentions from the lighter.
The first light up and inhale is like an orgasm. I instantly feel better after the exhale, almost like all of my worries have just blown away…for the time being.
Looking up to the endless sea of parked cars, ‘Where did I park at?’ I question myself as I take another puff, scanning the lot for where my car is. I don’t remember parking very far, it should be nearby…
I continue to walk with a puff of smoke trailing behind me. Finally spotting my dark green Corolla nudged in between a bright yellow Hummer and a shiny black Escalade. Of course most of the cars around here are nice, and the ones that aren’t usually belong to the students that are here under scholarship.
I put my hand in the side pocket and pull out my key chain. It is rather small with a little silver disk that has, ‘Bitch, Please!’ written across it in black sharpie that holds my car key, house key, storage locker key, and my previous house key together . Rather pathetic group I know. I think someone’s group of keys can tell a lot about them to others, if you know what the various keys go to.
I open my car door. I tend to leave it unlocked, no one on this campus is going to steal it since they certainly can’t get anything for it plus I don’t even know if anyone else could drive it. Turning the car on; hard, loud bass comes instantly blasting from the little speakers. Thankfully no one is looking this way.
I pull out and head towards home. I can not wait to get home and just shut out the rest of the world since apparently I am not good enough to be in it. I fall just short of the class average. Nothing new of course, I’m always falling short.
Pulling off the busy road and into the small parking lot of my duplex, ‘Looks like Mr. Duncan is home.' I think to myself as I see his little red sports car parked in its usual spot. I park in my usual spot, right next to my front door. Each duplex is given five parking spots, two for each apartment and then one is always reserved for Ms. Evelyn, the landlord. I heard that she actually got someone’s car towed for parking in her spot before; she takes her parking very seriously apparently.
As I get out of my car, Mr. Duncan’s little puffball of a dog comes trotting out of the door next to mine. The dog is so small, I don’t understand how it can bounce up so high and yap so much. Mr. Duncan comes out not too long after with a leash in his hand and a scowl on his lips. I’ve never asked but I really don’t think he likes the dog if his expression is anything to go by.
I hurriedly make my way into my apartment avoiding Mr. Duncan. He always tries to talk to me. I walk down the entrance hall passing by the guest bedroom, a room that has never been used, and go into the living room that opens from the hall. My messenger bag gets put in its usual spot, at the end of the couch, before making my way into the small kitchen to automatically switch the coffee maker on. I always change out the filter in the morning before leaving for this very reason, no worrying about cleaning it out when I really don’t feel like it.
The coffee is making its small drips to the pot; I can already smell it drifting throughout the dark, silent apartment. I can feel my relaxation almost complete with my shoulders losing their tension. Walking back into the living room I see the red light blinking from the small voicemail machine that is positioned right by the archway into the kitchen.
I sigh, ‘Why can’t people just leave me alone! I don’t own a cell phone for this very reason. I hate talking to people. Other than this damn landline, which I got primarily for school and work reasons, I don’t really use anything for communications….well I do have a pager but that is only for work. No one else has that number but my clients and my email inbox has never received a single personal message.’
I rub the back of my neck in irritation before releasing an exhale of breath and pushing the ‘play’ button on the machine.
‘You have three new messages.’ **Beep** ‘First new message at 7:15 am’ **Beep** ‘Hey Bill! Haven’t heard from ya in a few weeks so thought I would drop a line. Mom was asking about you the other day. Call me soon!’
‘Damn! Georg! Guess I’ll have to call him soon.’ I think to myself in irritation at how people are always trying to impose themselves into my life. ‘They always try and tell me what I am doing wrong with how I am living. Like they have such perfect lives…well maybe Georg really does have it pretty close to perfection, but still! He doesn’t know what it’s like!’
I push the delete button before it can go to the next message, ‘Message one erased’ **Beep** ‘Second new message at 9:45 am’ **Beep** ‘Hello Bill dear. I haven’t heard anything from you in awhile and I seem to always miss you at home. Please call me back. I am worried about you and would like to hear from you.’
‘Double Damn! Why do they always do this? They both always call me around the same time, always wanting to talk to me!’ I think with distaste at the mere thought, ‘Sure Ms. Ann isn’t as bad and I think she actually cares for me but she always tries so hard and pushes too much. She has always been there for me since I was 10, but she is only able to do so much.’ My finger jabs at the delete button before the machine can even ‘beep’. I will call people when I damn well feel like it and they all know it. I have gone weeks without uttering a single word to anybody, except my cat. Kashmir has never once tried to push me.
‘Message two erased’ **Beep** ‘Third new message at 2:55 pm’ **Beep** ‘Mr. Kaulitz this is Professor Nixon. You need to come see me in my office as soon as you can. It is very important that we talk. My office hours are Monday through Friday from 8:30 am to 9:45 am and 2:15 pm to 4:15 pm. Have a good day.’
I just stare at my now quite machine with the red light still flashing on it. ‘Why does Professor Nixon want me to come by? That is the one class I am not struggling in!’ My hands start shaking I feel as I reach up and pull my black beanie from my hair, releasing my black and white dreads from their morning confines. I throw the fabric onto a nearby arm chair.
Before I can work myself into a panic attack, which have been getting better, Kashmir purrs her way into the living room. She makes her way over to me and winds her way in between my thin legs a few times before stopping and looking up at me with this expecting look. It means she’s hungry and wants to be fed now. The one time I ignored her, she scratched the hell out of my legs. I think I still have a scar from it.
I just sigh, and walk back into the kitchen. Glancing over at the coffee machine I see that it’s almost done. I open one of the pantry doors and grab one of the disgusting cans of cat food that Kashmir eats. I have tried everything both dry and wet, but this is the only thing she will eat. It smells disgusting and isn’t anywhere near as healthy for her as I would like.
I open the can as far away from my nose as I can manage before plopping the disgusting mess into her food dish right by the refrigerator. She immediately attacks the congealing mess with a few purrs and meows. I just roll my eyes at my weird cat but I suppose it’s what I get for taking in a stray. Kashmir kind of chose me and wouldn’t go away no matter how much I protested.
With a frown on my face, I just make my way back over to the coffee and grab my favorite mug. I have a favorite mug for in the morning, one for the afternoon, one for evenings, and then one I use when working on projects. This is how I know what is going on and also how I keep up with time as well. I fill to full, not adding sugar, creamer, or milk. Straight black is the only way I take it, anything else in it is just disgusting. I pick up the mug with care, not wanting the life sustaining liquid to get spilt anywhere. I leave my happily eating cat to her meal, making my way back down the hallway and into the room at the front that I have setup as my work room/study room
My apartment is setup rather weirdly but it works for me. All of the daily used rooms are at the very back of the apartment, including my bedroom and bathroom along with the living room and kitchen. I don’t have a dining room but I would never use the room either but I do have a little bar area that connects the living room and kitchen. At the front is the guest bedroom with a guest bath that opens from the hallway and the bedroom, the washer/dryer closet and the den which I have converted into my work room/study room mostly because it's one of the biggest rooms that also has a door that can be locked.
I unlock the room with a key that is always stored in my jeans pocket. I never go anywhere without this key. I have actually missed classes when I thought I accidentally washed and dried it with my laundry. It ended up being next to my bathroom’s sink, underneath a face towel I had used to take off my eye makeup.
The room is dark with just the glow of computers in hibernation or with screensavers on. There are various computer manuals scattered around mixed in with my school textbooks and papers, not to mention a store’s worth of computer parts. This room is where I make my entire living out of. I don’t even have to leave this room to work unless I feel the need to be hands on. I love that I can shut everything out and no one will disturb me.
I put my coffee mug in its spot, away from computer equipment and papers. Typing a few things on the one keyboard in the room causes all of the computer screens to light up with different things on each screen. I turn my attention to a screen off to the side with a program running. I see percentages going up along with a line graph to show its progress.
‘Hopefully I’ll have this analysis ready for Mr. Gunther in a few days. I’m tried of his constant pages and the almost everyday voicemails. I told him two weeks and I meant it.’ I gripe to myself in annoyance as I sip from my hot coffee before turning my attention to another computer screen. It’s time to work for a little while before getting started on my school work.
I always set aside two or three hours of work before getting started on anything else, this way nothing is pushed to the wayside. The only time I get roused up from work is when Kashmir demands attention.
Looking down at my coffee mug, it’s empty. ‘Damn’ I think to myself before getting up from the leather computer chair, coffee mug in hand and walking down the cleared path to the closed door. No one would know that there is nice wood flooring underneath everything, but people can see it a little through the pathway I cleared from my chair to the door. Of course no one will ever set eyes let alone foot in this room.
I close and lock the door once more before walking down the hallway and into the kitchen, pausing for a moment to see the red light rapidly blinking on the voicemail machine, it only rapidly blinks when there is a new message.
‘Damn!’ I exclaim to myself before passing by it and going to the coffee pot. Looking over to Kashmir’s food bowl, it is licked clean with not a single piece of food to be seen. Everyone would think I don’t feed her but she gets three meals a day plus treats, I think it’s a mentality from when she was a stray. I even give her both water and milk.
I just sigh at the weirdness of my cat and pour myself another mug full of coffee before walking out of the small kitchen. I pause at the voicemail machine again, ‘I suppose I should at least listen to it just to be safe.’ I tell myself as I push the play button.
‘You have one new message.’ **Beep** ‘New message at 6:24 pm’ **Beep** ‘Bill! When are you going to call me back? I know you are already done with class, you gave me your schedule at the start of semester. Call me by tomorrow!’ I hurriedly jab the delete button.
‘New message erased’ **Beep** Then it just goes back to the slow red light blinking reminding me I still have that message from Professor Nixon on there.
‘What the hell Georg?!’ I think in disbelief before shaking my head and going back to my work room for a little while longer before I get to studying.
Georg is a nice guy but he has always been a pain ever since I moved in with him when I was 16, mostly due to the pushing of Ms. Ann plus I was just tired of being shuffled from one place to another. Georg’s family was offering me permanency. They probably still would if I ever decided to go back, thought it’s not likely to ever happen. It was just too normal for me to handle. I am not normal. I have not experienced normal things, so how can I be expected to live normally?
Georg’s mom really started to hover around me after I graduated from high school. She kept going on and on about me going to college, that the family would help or that I was also welcome to work at the family restaurant but she always used ‘the family’ as if there wasn’t any other one. I couldn’t take it! I was so used to being by myself and ignored that this sudden interest in my life and future…it was something I just wasn’t used to.
The moment I got my inheritance from my parents, I left Georg’s house and moved here. I did take a few community college classes when I was living there more or less just to get his mom off my back, but I probably didn’t breath a single breathe of relief until the day I signed the lease on this place. After living here for a few months and getting my business up and running, I finally went and enrolled at the college, mostly out of boredom and I realized I couldn’t do much more in my profession without a damn degree.
I do know I didn’t start my form of pain management until I moved into Georg’s house and it did stop…for a brief period when I moved out. Now it’s back with a burning desire that sometimes is almost too much to quench. I have been tempted to do the ultimate cut but it never seems like the right moment. I always stop myself, but the want is their in the back of my mind always pushed aside. One day it will come roaring to the forefront demanding even more than I am already giving.
~*~*~*~
TBC.....
Chapter 2